The Angel and the Fae
by Nydharani
Summary: Born from different mothers, Lisbeth and Christine Daaé only have the love for each other left after their father's death in a tragic incident. Because of it, Lisbeth was ready to do anything to help Christine achieve her dream, even if it meant to always prevail in the shadows. However, she would soon find out she wasn't alone in the dark. (Mix of Leroux, Kay and ALW)
1. Overture

_Black and red._

_Hard to breathe._

_Smoke all around._

_And everything burns._

"Wake up, sister. Wake up!"

The startling sound of a familiar voice and the way her body was being agitated with strength yet care finally woke her up. Disoriented, the young woman looked wide-eyed at her surroundings as she sat up, realizing she had fallen asleep on her sister's shoulder. The carriage bounced around as it stepped over the pavement roads, making her long, blonde curls move around her almost comically. The girl rubbed her eyes a bit too harshly and touched the earrings in the form of stars that decorated her ears to check if they were still there, an old habit that didn't seem to go away. Finally, turned her grey eyes to Christine, her older sister.

"Chris…?"

"You were having a nightmare, Lisbeth." her sister spoke with a trace of fright in her voice. "Please, don't tell me you were remembering-"

"My dear Christine, you worry too much. I am perfectly fine." her freckled grimace brightened up as she smiled, hiding the memories from her sister.

Sadly for Lisbeth, Christine knew too well the mask of happiness her sister built after the incident.

"Look! We are approaching the Opera at last!" the younger sister's innocent try to change the topic of the conversation was enough for the brunette to let it go, and even though the memories haunted her too, she knew they did not nearly as much as to Lisbeth.

Christine peeked outside the window, admiring the majestic building and their soon-to-be home. Mamma Valerius, the woman that took care of them when their father passed away, had arranged it after the Conservatory verified Christine's singing natural talent, and both were to received the very same education their father would have provided were he still be alive.

Or, at least, that was their father's plans.

He could not predict how the cause of his death would affect his youngest daughter, and how she now much preferred to do labors no one wanted to do as long as she could stay close to her sister.

"Sweet Beth." Christine called her gently, brushing her pale locks with her fingers. "My sweet sister. I must insist you think about your decision more thoroughly. You have helped me so far...but I know you deserve a chance to shine! Your place isn't cleaning the floors and making the laundry!"

"I have already made up my mind, Chris." her gaze drifted, and the brunette couldn't help but detect the sadness and shame reflect on her words. "The thought of being in front of an audience, with all their eyes on me..."

Her older sister hugged her the moment she saw the teen shudder.

After all, with their father gone, they were all they had left.

"Just wait until you take the lessons and practice with the rest. You'll change your mind, I'm sure of it! The whole world should listen to you sing."

"You're the talented one, remember? Father always wanted you to succeed. He knew nothing would keep you from performing." Lisbeth smiled once more, imitating her previous actions.

The very same smile.

The very same mask.

The carriage stopped, and a man opened the door and indicated the two girls to step out. The sudden realization of being in a completely foreign country and city, with strangers surrounding them all around, hit them, and Lisbeth felt her sister grab her arm strongly.

"I wonder if the Angel of Music will visit us now that we are in a higher place! Perhaps now that we face or most important trial he will come in our aid." Christine exclaimed, and for an instant, Lisbeth's smile froze into a devastated grimace. However, she composed herself so quickly that Chris thought to only have imagined it.

"Who knows. But let's work hard for ourselves, alright? I doubt he'll come if we ask for him too much. I just hope they'll keep me as long as possible so I can be with you."

Truth be told, Lisbeth's heart ached greatly when remembering how she always heard her father tell Christine an Angel of Music would come and aid both of them. She swore to never tell the truth to Christine, the truth that was revealed to her by their father the night before the accident.

"But...you won't want to leave, right? Y-You'll stay with me, right?"

The worry that permeated her words softened Lisbeth's heart. She grabbed one of her hands and kissed it sweetly before pressing their foreheads together, the younger's indigo cloak mixing with the older's mint one as the cold wind greeted them.

"Christine. My beloved sister. I promise you here and now, at the very doors of our new home, of the Opera. I'll always protect you. I'll forever look after you."

The brunette hugged her again, kissing her cheek slightly.

_For they both thought nothing could separate them._

_For nothing could compete with a love so pure._

_The love of two sisters united by a tragedy._

_Even though one would feel forever guilty._

_Even though the other would be forever scarred._

* * *

"Christine, look!" the rushed whisper of her sister caught her attention, who signaled her with a moving hand to approach her. Looking at both sides discreetly, the brunette separated from the small group of young girls and walked towards the blonde. Christine's ravishing dancing dress floated gracefully around her as she moved, and Beth thought how she would feel wearing one of those instead of the dirty white shirt and black trousers the cleaning service had provided for her.

"Lisbeth, come on! We're going to miss our first meeting with the Madame! You know how important it is she hears us sing for the first time!

"I know, I know. But here, listen!" Lisbeth encouraged her sister to place her ear on the wall and proceeded to tap it twice once, only to tap it again twice a bit further away. "Did you hear it? It sounds different."

"...I don't think I follow you."

"There's something behind this wall, right here." the blonde stated, extending her arms. "I discovered it by accident, but there's no doubt of it! Christine, this place seems to hide a lot of secrets. In the two weeks we've been here I found other spots like this one, where the structure seems to be weaker or hollow."

"You and your curiosity. It will be the end of you, dear sister." even though her words seemed severe, her warm tone indicated just how sweet her sister's attitude appealed to her. "We will have plenty of time to discover every secret if that's your wish, but first we must go!"

Not leaving her a chance to protest, Christine grabbed Lisbeth's arm and guided her through the exquisitely decorated hallways at a fast speed. It amazed the girls of the scenery could change to the most opulent to one of basic elegance when they reached the dressing rooms.

"Where is Daaé? They're the last to audition!" a girl with ink-like hair and eyes and a delicate figure exclaimed, clearly looking for them.

"We're here, Meg!" the brunette answered nearly out of breath.

"Come on and head to the stage! Mother and Monsieurs Moncharmin and Richard are waiting for you!

"Just a moment!" Christine waited until her sister took her indigo cloak and, when everyone seemed distracted with their own business, they both climbed up the stairs and stopped just before arriving to the stage.

"Oh, and the other Daaé." Meg's tone changed when she spoke about Lisbeth, disdain present in every word. "La Sorelli's room needs cleaning. It's dirtier than your face!" every girl present in the room giggled, clearly amused at the comparison of Lisbeth's freckles present all over her face and shoulders to spots of dirt and dust. "Oh, and careful with the Phantom! I'm sure he'll be delighted to haunt the new visitors." The blonde didn't bother to reply and smile at Christine, who looked at her worried and saddened by Meg's words.

"Remember sister, I'll be right behind you. Fear not." Lisbeth assured her and tried to head to the backstage. Her sister stopped, however, and made her look at her straight in the eyes. Clear blue eyes collided with pearly gray ones, and the blonde waited for the words her sister always told her before she had to sing.

"Lisbeth, this is your chance. Just step outside the curtain and show the world what you can do!"

And like every time, she answered with the very same words.

"I don't need that the world knows about me. What I need is for you to be happy." while putting the hood over her head, she placed a hand on Christine's face, only her cold smile showing from underneath the cloth. "Let's do this just as we used to do it in the Conservatory."

The brunette finally nodded, and they both headed to their rightful place.

Christine to the front of the stage.

And Lisbeth to the back.

The girl waited patiently for the moment they've been practicing for the two weeks they lived there, as Christine had to dance and act before singing. When she saw Chris' hand peak through the curtain and heard the piano start playing, she cleared her throat.

And while Christine acted, Lisbeth sang.

The fright that the brunette experienced every time her sister sang in her place repeated once again, and she tried desperately to keep her cool and move her lips as if she was the one singing. For Lisbeth, who could only see the red curtain and imagine her sister's movements, it was becoming easier and easier to remember to which side she had to move to follow the choreography, and her early exploration led her to the places where the acoustic amplified her voice.

The world would know one of the Daeé, Lisbeth swore to herself long ago.

And that was Christine Daeé.

However, no one noticed the figure that observed the brunette from Box 5. A figure completely dressed in black, the black cloak covering the parts of his body that the dress-coat couldn't fully do. He used to fight boredom listening to the new talents, often laughing at their horrible voices and general talent. To his surprise, he found himself listening too closely to her performance, tasting every word and every note, delighted. And even though he enjoyed it, even though hundreds of delicious thoughts crossed his mind, the figure felt there was something he was missing.

For he had learned to observe without being seen, and to listen without been heard.

And that was the sole reason he knew there was something off.

"That was not mediocre, Miss Daeé." Madame Giry's finally said while the owners of the Opera applauded, clearly satisfied with Christine's first rehearsal. "However, even though your voice has potential, there is something very important that you lack, young miss."

"What is that, Madame?"

The blonde, who would have usually stopped listening by now and head towards her usual job before being discovered, found herself staying impatiently for the Madame's observations.

"You lack emotion, Miss Daeé. Your voice is empty, plain. Beautiful, yet dead. We shall work on that."

When Christine finished hearing all comments and said goodbye to her judges she stepped inside the curtain with a big smile, wanting to hug her sister more than anything. She found herself surrounded by darkness however, the only star that illuminated the place long gone.

* * *

Madame de Changy walked peacefully towards her room, occasionally encountering those who, like her, were interns of the place to dedicate their lives fully to it. That kind was the rarest though, as now the majority of the artist had left to go to their homes. With a lantern on hand and a notebook on the other, she revised the performances of the day as her last task for the day.

"Who was she?"

The woman froze, unable to move any further. Even though he had assured her she and her daughter would forever be safe as long as she did his commands, it was still a reaction she couldn't control. A sense of fright beyond reason.

"Monsieur?"

"The new singer. Who was that last young girl?" the voice asked again, making the woman gasp.

"She arrived only two weeks ago. Quite the performance she did."

"I was not notified of her arrival, Madame. Could you explain to me the reason for it?

"But you were, monsieur!" de Changy responded, turning around only to find nothing. "I'm sure I did tell you about the Daaé sisters."

"Sisters...?" the voice, masculine yet melodic like no other, seemed to wander off.

"Christine and Lisbeth Daaé, monsieur. The latter is no artist. She spends her days helping the staff by cleaning and tending to their needs."

She received no answer this time. The madame waited for a full minute until she breathed normally again, acknowledging that she was alone once more. She forced herself to walk again and head rather quickly to her bedroom, wanting to forget the dangerous pact she had done with the devil that haunted the Opera.

Unknown to the Madame, another soul wandered the Opera, covered by a hood that resembled the night. Lisbeth had been around long enough to know the worker's shift, and she was excited to find every dark corner and covered secret the building had to offer in the days to come. Lisbeth already had a habit to do nocturnal visits to the rooftop, just like she did with Mamma Valerius. However, as she passed the stairs leading to the stage, the words echoed in her mind.

"You lack emotion, miss Daeé."

Even though the words weren't for her, they were meant to be. Without thinking about it, her body moved on her own and headed up.

She place the lantern on the floor and let the piece of dark blue clothing fall next to it. Shyly, the blonde made her way to the center of the stage, the dim light on the candles the only thing that kept the darkness away.

"Your voice is empty, plain."

Lisbeth felt extremely guilty. What if someone found their lie? She shouldn't do what she was about to do. Christine's fate was about to be threatened because of a childish whim!

And yet...wouldn't it help her too?"

"Beautiful, yet dead."

And with that last memory, she sang. Shyly, quietly at first. She sang as if she was Juliet, as that was the role she had prepared with her sister. She sang about love, about hate, about grief. And there, in that stage, alone, she felt how she could sing and move without needing to be meticulous or fail in one single note.

In the darkness, Lisbeth felt revived.

With the last verse, she lifted her arms to the sky, breathing and sweating heavingly. For the first time in years, she smiled truthfully and looked at the audience. However, her smile returned to its normal cold self when she remembered she was completely alone.

How long had it been she could sing her heart out?

Too long it seemed since she couldn't stop a tear to fall from her left eye.

Ashamed for what she had just done, she whipped it angrily and took her belongings, ready to leave before someone noticed her, just like she always did.

"Brava..."

Lisbeth's heart skipped a beat at the sound of a foreign voice, with all candles going out at once. Trembling, she raised her lantern and looked at all directions, trying to find the man behind the voice.

"Bravissima..."

"Who are you!?" she exclaimed to the neverending darkness. "Show yourself!"

"Who am I? My dear, you already know who I am." She forced her grey eyes to see beyond the shadows without success, afraid the owner of the voice was a member of the Opera's chorus and had seen through her and her sister's lies.

However, a part of her knew her voice was too perfect, too heavenly, to belong to any chorus.

"It-It cannot be..." Could it be that Christine was right all along? Was she finally losing her mind? "Are you...Are you our Angel?"

"Say it louder, child! Who am I?" the voice, which was only a mere whisper, was progressively becoming louder, coming from various places each time the mysterious man spoke.

"Are you...our Angel of Music?" While she wanted to believe it, wanted to believe their hardships would pass with the coming of an Angel, her father's words echoed in her mind and heart. No. There was nothing such as angels.

"Angel of Music! Yes!" Pleased, the voiced sounded closer than ever, startling even more the young woman. "I have finally come to you. My child, I have come to guide you, to take care of you, for I am your Angel. Answer me: why do I find you here, in the darkness, without knowing your name, while your sister relish in the light, while Christine earns the glory?"

"I thought you would know, Angel." she almost whispered, her brows knotting. "Were you not sent by our loving father?"

"Let me teach you, beautiful Lisbeth." the girl couldn't help but shiver when the voice pronounced her name. She was sure she had told no one of it, and her firm belief of this Angel being a lie quivered. "Become the instrument of my music, the vessel of my knowledge."

"And what do you want in return, oh Angel of Music?" she asked arching a brow, still searching for the man and, when founding nothing, asking herself if perhaps the voice spoke from Heaven.

"Only for your obedience, sweet girl. Only for your compromise with my lessons and teachings."

She wanted to distrust, wanted to run and leave the haunted place. Yet he found herself being allured by the mysterious voice as if she was embraced by the night, dangerous yet thrilling night.

She found herself wanting to be selfish.

Yet she couldn't.

"Protect her too." Lisbeth murmured, only to look at the darkness with a newfound resolution. "Protect my sister too. Help her rise and become an important woman. If you do that, I will accept your guidance...my Angel."

She received no answer and, for a moment, she wanted to laugh at herself for imagining the whole thing. What she did not know was that a man was standing right behind her, with a skeletal hand raised to the point to almost touch her silvery locks. He was so close, so close that he could smell the aroma of poppies on her neck.

One part of him was infuriated that such a talent was to be kept hidden from the world by her very wish.

The other could not be more grateful that all that talent was going to be for him, and him alone.

"We have a deal." Her whole skin crawled as she felt a breath on her neck, but when she turned around, she knew the voice and its owner were already gone.

She knew far too well there were no angels. Was she wrong, though? Or had she made a deal with a demon instead?"

As she made her way towards her shared room with Christine, only one thing was clear for her. Kissing her sleeping sister's forehead, she swore to herself what she already swore a thousand times.

I'll protect you. I'll do everything for you, Christine. No matter what.


	2. Aria

A single ray of sun made its way through the closed window to the young woman's face, illuminating it among the complete darkness.

Lisbeth woke up suddenly, with her pale hair tangled and her body cold, glancing at both sides with uneasiness. Yawning silently, it took her a few seconds to realise she had moved so much while dreaming she had tossed all sheets and blankets to the ground, something which was not at all strange. When the young woman fully remembered everything, she would have laugh without control were she not alone. What a strange dream about angels she just had.

Gathering her long and curly mane in a messy bun and putting on her earrings in the form of intricate Celtic stars, she thought how lucky she was to not wear the usual maid dress requested for almost every woman in charge of cleaning. Since she was designated to take care of most the backstage and places not shown to the public, she could get away with dressing in old and comfy shirts and pants. Once fully dressed, she looked under her bed to check if all her most precious belongings—a bunch of books about astronomy and astrology, a notebook and a telescope—were still there and stood up, tip-toeing her way towards the window which she opened quietly. Lying on the ledge was a bowl of milk, one she had placed the night before for brownies and other benign beings, just as her mother had taught her. As usual, though, the bowl has not even been touch and, without any remorse, she drank it whole, serving her as a quick breakfast before attending to her work.

Like she has been doing for two weeks, she has woken up three hours before the rest of the artists, at five o'clock in the morning, along with the cleaning staff. It might seem too early for most, but truth was she didn't get to sleep much with five other maids sleeping in the same room anyway. The managers had procured a bedroom for them that could very well pass for a storage room, which did nothing to hide the constant sound of snoring or sleep-talking. However, Lisbeth was the only one who stayed on purpose, as the others had an ever-changing shift in their work that, sometimes, forced them to stay the night to keep the place secure until past midnight.

Together, they dusted, polished, and generally cleaned the whole building along with the other workers. Were it not for her will to help Christine, the girl had to admit that she thought about quitting at times, as having to also deal with the artists and their whims didn't make it any easier. La Solleri needed a certain scent, La Carlotta an unique mist for her throat—half of the ballerinas behaved like dirty like pigs and the other like wild boars.

Oh, and how they liked to humiliate and laugh at her for being the sister fallen in disgrace, the one who didn't possess enough talent to even try to audition! To say that she ended her days sweating like she was in the middle of the desert and wishing to make everything go away was an understatement.

And then, to top it all up, there was the Phantom.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera!" would scream from time to time little Jammes, the youngest ballerina, alerting everyone as she fled running and throwing everything in her path.

"Shut it, Jammes! He's not even real!" another girl would respond while her whole body trembled.

No one wanted to admit it, but everyone was afraid of him to a certain extent. It was undeniable that there has been 'strange' things happening, like objects moving out of place without being touched or certain pieces that disappeared out of thin air. For Lisbeth, however, it evoked more respect than fear.

"The síth are really having fun", Lisbeth always thought with a shy smile when hearing about the Phantom and its deeds, remembering how her mother used to alert her of such mischievous creatures. It's not like she actually thought what happened was the work of mythological creatures, but for her it was far more likable to attribute those deeds to faes than to ghosts.

But it was all worth it when she was required to do her job near the artists while they practiced.

It didn't matter what the class was about. The young woman would somewhat hide and spy on them while trying to copy what they were doing, which lead her to various punishments when the places she needed to clean weren't perfect enough. She would copy their movements if it was dancing, their gestures if it was acting, or their voice if it was singing. Especially in the latter, she had to pay five francs to Joseph Buquet, the stagehands' boss, so he could let her into the backstage without any question. He would do so, but not before looking at her up and down with a disgusting gaze.

"Y'know, perhaps next time I'll be the one to pay you for a little favor." he would say as he left while leaving.

At times everything became too much, but she wanted to help Christine more than anything in the world. Besides, even though she knew she would never want to perform in front of an audience, she took joy in learning about everything she could.

While practicing the day's singing lesson, her mind traveled to the past night. She could still feel that ethereal voice in her body and soul. A voice without any flaws. Beyond perfection.

Surely such an incredible voice was a product of her imagination! The product of what she had to accomplish for Christine.

"You're so stupid, Lisbeth. You're not even Catholic!" she said to herself angrily. Even after everything her father did, his teachings didn't seem to go away if she really thought for a moment some Christian God sent her an Angel, and even though she wanted to think she believed in something, deep inside she knew that her thoughts dedicated to sídh or brownies where just a product of her mother's education and teachings. Christine shared none other beliefs though, as her father prohibited her to be anything other than Catholic, just like her mother was.

Libseth has wondered many times how her life would have been if only she would have shared a mother with Christine.

The day was coming to an end, and the blonde was more than ready to visit Christine once more before finally ending her working day. As per usual, she headed straight to the basement's improvised chapel, where she was sure to find her sister praying. Lisbeth knew that it saddened Christine deeply that her sister didn't want to pray or go to Mass as she cared for the 'salvation of her soul', but she couldn't bring herself to even listen to a Kyrie without wanting to vomit. Where it not for her father, she thought dryly, perhaps at this very moment she would be praying with Christine too.

Perhaps that night Lisbeth would study and observe the stars like she usually did when the weather allowed it and her feelings overpowered her. She found she had many other interests apart from music when she left her father's house, and she was decided to exploit them for as much as she could.

With her mind in the many books she would read while waiting for night time, her usual and rather pleasant walk to the chapel was interrupted by a sudden scream.

"This cannot be!" Lisbeth knew her sister's voice too well, and it didn't take her even a second to sprint and ran towards her voice, climbing down the stairs, feeling like she was going to vomit for the sudden fright.

It surprised her, even more, the fact Madame Giry was there with her, apparently talking with Christine.

"Sister!" she exclaimed again with tears streaming down her face as her sister appeared, embracing her without even giving her a moment to speak. The brunette's beautiful flowy gown tangled around Lisbeth's dirty clothes as some strings of hair broke loose from the bun, covering her face.

"Christine! What happened!?" Lisbeth grabbed her sister's arms a bit too strongly, unable to contain her fear and dread as she looked back and forth at Christine and the Madame with arched eyebrows. However, she was left petrified when she recognized the tears on Christine's face as tears of joy.

"Oh, dear sister! It has finally happened!"

"What has happened, Christine? Answer me already!"

"I believe what Miss Daaé wishes to say is that you both have a new... 'patron', so to say." intervened the Madame after clearing her throat. "He made sure to pay for all your expenses, including a new room for each of you."

"A patron? New room?" the blonde's thick eyebrows fell and knotted in a gesture of suspicion, something that made Giry's lips twitch, the thought of the child resisting to his commands sending a shiver through her spine. "I don't think we want-"before Lisbeth was able to utter a single word, her sister spoke unable to contain her happiness.

"We'll be delighted to follow you. But please, let us have a moment alone. We'll be outside in a second."

The woman made a little bowing and left the chapel, leaving the sisters alone. A second after, Christine threw her arms around her sister's neck.

"He's appeared! Oh, Lisbeth, the Angel of Music has finally appeared!" Lisbeth's grey eyes opened widely while her skin became a dangerous shade of white, her heart and blood freezing.

It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be that her dream was a reality.

"...He...has?" hearing the incredulity on her voice, Christine raised a hand and pointed her finger towards the statue of an angel with its hands pressed together. Its expression was peaceful and gentle, which did nothing for Lisbeth's nerves, whose gaze shifted from the inanimate stone to her sister in utter disbelief.

"Sister, you can't imagine just how relieved I felt when he came to me. His voice—what a voice!—talked to me with such gentleness, like he had known me since forever! A voice like that cannot belong to any earthly creature."

"I know, Christine." the girl said, looking away.

"...He has shown himself to yo too, right?" now it was Christine who was holding Lisbeth's face between her hands "He came to you too!"

"I thought I imagined it. Dreamt it. I-It was impossible"

"I know that you don't believe. That you never believed." her voice was filled with sadness, which knotted her sister's gut "But Papa always told us! There is a Heaven after all, for he has sent us this Angel from there!"

Christine's face was so bright and full of joy that her sister was unable to simply tell her to think about everything that was happening more carefully. However, as the events slowly started to unravel in her mind, Lisbeth remember in horror how it was herself who asked the strange voice to take care of her sister.

Was this all her fault? Has she put her sister in danger? That's something she couldn't live with.

"What did he told you?" Lisbeth asked, trying to regain her cool and evade her sister's statement. The last thing she wanted to talk about at that moment was about their father.

"That he would watch over us. He would keep us both safe for as long as we honored music. Minutes after, Madame Giry appeared talking about this strange patron who had paid for our maintenance! Can you believe it?"

"And since when do angels have power over patrons?" she said sarcastically. However, Christine's beautiful turquoise eyes seemed to stare directly into Lisbeth's soul, and her first thought was to tell her how this so-called "Angel" was to be her teacher in exchange for his protection over her.

She wanted her to forget about the Angel, to simply ignore it and never talk about it again—but when she was about to say the worlds, the brunette hugged her sister's waist while looking at her with a smile of pure bliss on her delicate face.

"Everything will be alright now, Beth..." she whispered. The blonde said nothing—instead, she pulled her sister close, laying her head on her chest while protecting her face with her hand and wrapping one arm around her slim body.

When she looked up at the angel's statute, there was steel in her eyes.

"We'll see about that."

* * *

Defiance.

As Erik looked from a dark, safe corner of the room the way the younger Daeé looked at the modeled stone, defiance was the only way to describe the look in her eyes. And it wasn't the only place where he has seen it, for last night all her emotions were masked with the same look of distrust and coldness. Her eyes reminded him of something or someone, a memory kept deep inside his mind he could not quite remember.

Oh, but how beautifully ready had been Christine to give him her whole being! A little magic and ventriloquism and she was ready to believe whatever he said. And when he talked to her, when he whispered the words he knew she wanted to hear, the look of pure bliss in her eyes made clear she would be ready to do anything he asked for. Her obedience and submission made him feel powerful, almost as powerful as when he lived in Persia.

And if there was something liked nearly as much as music, it was power.

He almost gave in to the easiness of it all and thought of only being Christine's "Angel". When she was singing her prayers he recognized her voice was good enough—innocent and pure, he could transform it into the most beautiful sound with a little effort. Were not for Lisbeth, he was certain he would have chosen the brunette to be his student.

But Erik knew far too well there was no escape for the mystery Lisbeth supposed.

For when he discovered the lie the Daaé shared, he couldn't help but ask himself why.

Why would a girl who had the looks and talent to triumph and make a name for herself in the Opera preferred to stay in the shadows?

And furthermore, why would she rather give all credit to her sister?

Too many questions he wanted an answer for. And even though he knew what he was doing was wrong—playing with the beliefs of two young women and possibly jeopardizing their relationship, he found himself unable to let his curiosity unsatiated.

That is the reason he visited her last night. To know and understand, to ask her the reason behind her actions, as he couldn't deny the certain anger that her behavior stirred inside him. What he would've given to have the opportunity she had, and how boldly she was wasting it!

At first, when he heard her voice when he was 'listening' to her sister, he thought of it as not utterly disastrous. She had the perfect pitch, the perfect shape...and yet, no feelings whatsoever! It was like a well-trained zombie, something he blamed on the strict teachings of the Conservatory where she came from. But then, when he followed her to the stage in the middle of the night and she began to sing again...everything changed.

As she interpreted the role of Juliet he discovered that her voice hid raw, passionate emotions. They were in the most inner depths of her body and soul but still there, like a caged, primal predator awaiting for its liberation. There was a wildness to it that Erik swore to never hear in any other voice he ever listened to.

Since he built the Opera, he has lived five levels below from the surface thanks to the implementation of infinite hidden passages and traps created by himself, shunning the world away from him. He was more than ready to finish his days alone, in the dark, with only his music and the memory of his travels with him. However, he soon found with horror that he couldn't finish what was to be his most important composition, the culmen of his entire life—Don Juan Triumphant. How strange was to create something with a name he used to hate passionately.

It didn't take him too long to figure out why. He suffered the worst disease any musician could have: lack of inspiration!

How furious it made him realize he didn't have enough experience to write an opera focused on the temptations of flesh and soul, and thus to finish it. But that was before hearing Lisbeth's voice. Listening to it even for the first time, as untrained as it was, Erik found the tiny spark he was looking for—the spark that could transform into an incandescent muse.

He wanted, he needed her to sing for him so he could finish his work. That was also the reason why, with Christine already under his thumb, Madame Giry was leading her to a very special room—one that would allow him to control her movements.

Erik followed them very closely from the shadows, with Christine and Lisbeth only a few steps ahead. The difference between the two sisters was almost ridiculous, with the naïve and credulous Christine dressed in satin and the suspicious and defiant Lisbeth covered in dirt and sweat.

And yet, the strength with which both of them were holding hands made him frown annoyedly.

He made his way to the other side of the great mirror in the room and, like if it was a play, stared silently at the scene unfolding before his hollow eyes.

"This will be your new room. I expect you to move your things here immediately." Madame Giry said to Lisbeth. "Now mademoiselle, if you would follow me-"

"Christine stays with me," stated Lisbeth, leaving Christine and Giry dumbfounded.

"Come again?" the old woman responded, her grasp on her walking cane tightening. Christine's face became red as a tomato while she tried to pull Lisbeth's shirt for her to let it go, but she wasn't going to let it go.

"We don't need two rooms. We've shared one since we were little girls and we can do it again."

"That is not what he wanted. I will not allow you to disrespect him like this." Giry said solemnly, not leaving any room to protest.

"What does it matter to him where we sleep as long as we're comfortable?"

"Lisbeth!" exclaimed her sister "You're being very rude! We can sleep in different rooms."

"No, we cannot. Doesn't it sound a little strange he chose our rooms hims-"

"Enough!" the Madame's severe voice silenced both sisters. "Shall I remind you, mademoiselle, that you work here comes from a favor given to Miss Valerious? It would not be wise to misbehave in front of the woman in charge to coordinate the Opera's employees, now would it?"

That ought to silence her about this topic forever, thought the Madame. However, after a moment of sepulchral silence in which the girl had kept her head down and her fists strongly closed, she looked up at her just enough for her silvery eyes to show.

And there it was again.

Defiance.

"Please, Lisbeth. Let it go." intervened Christine, seeing how both women were about to go at each other's throats. "I'll gladly accept the other room."

"...If you wish so, sister." she finally said in defeat, smiling lightly at her without any feeling.

It would seem Lisbeth's personality could be toned down by Christine, the Phantom quickly noticed.

The older woman led Christine to the exit. However, she took three quick steps towards Lisbeth before leaving, leaning close to her ear.

"You would be wise to not go against his wishes, Miss Daaé. Things can go sour to those who upset him. Try my patience though, and I'll see you out of this Opera in no time."

"Is that so?" Lisbeth responded, her gaze stabbing Giry's unbreakable spirit. "Would this 'patron' allow it, though?" she questioned, making Giry's face burn up in anger. "I am curious about his nature. Why would someone pay to keep a normal employee like me well kept? Perhaps you could facilitate me his name so I can thank him for his generosity, Madame."

"I have warned you. Whatever you do now, it's up to you." Giry left the room without another word. She couldn't allow herself to antagonize his protégé.

Erik found himself holding up his laughter, staring at the girl with curiosity and amusement, but also with disapproval. He found her attitude too unlady-like, the complete opposite of what he looked for in a muse for his don Juan. Also, he couldn't have the girl talking to Giry like that, something he would make sure to tell her in their first class, which started in a few hours.

He would do more than speak to her, though. He knew far too well his limits, but also his strengths. Tonight, when he sang to her, he would make sure to put her under his spell.

The spell of his music.

* * *

"Here I am, Angel." she stated when she made her way to the stage with an undertone of mockery. "Will you tell me what you really want from me now?"

"What I want, child, is only for you to grow," he responded, his voice filling her head in an imposing yet smooth way. "Am I not your Angel? What else would I want for you but your best?"

"Even angels can be selfish," she whispered with an unexpected sadness that took Erik by surprise.

"I have kept my promises, have I not?" he continued, trying to ignore her words. "Let us begin. I am sure you will see things differently after our lesson. Let us begin with the Romeo and Juliet duet. After me."

And with that, he began to sing. If Lisbeth thought his voice was otherworldly when he spoke, it was as if she was in the Otherworld when he sang, even when that place didn't even exist. His singing was exquisite and seductive, subtly demanding for her surrendering. She was lost in the vast universe his voice transported her to and didn't even realize the moment her time to sing arrived.

So he kept singing.

Lisbeth felt his music in her body and soul. It filled her in a way nothing ever did, and for a moment, she forgot about her sister, about her father and her past. Like the sweetest drug, she was left in a state of pleasant numbness where her Angel was the only thing that mattered.

And Erik knew it.

"I will train you. Make you become the perfect instrument," he whispered between lines, and she looked so docile he dared to grow bold and approached her slowly. "Soon, you will sing in front of an audience. Everyone will look at you, and only you. No one will take the credit you deserve."

The girl could see it. Right in front of her, the whole audience cheering for her, crying at the beauty of her voice. She knew she liked it, craved it, and yet she had kept that idea hidden deep inside of her so she would help her sister achieve her dream. But her Angel was stirring inside of her something she didn't allow herself to feel in a long time: selfishness.

She fell to her knees, completely enchanted with the visions his voice was making her experience. Music was embracing her like never before.

"I can make it all come true, my dear Lisbeth. Sing for me!"

And so she did, for she couldn't bear the thought of ending that experience. To say that it delighted Erik to see her do as he wished without a word wouldn't even touch the depths of the frivolous feelings he was experimenting. Her voice, if could be, was even more passionate than when he heard her first. The longing for something more, the feeling of standing up from the crowd, was releasing the instincts he saw inside her.

"Sing!" he repeated, only a few steps away from her back. He opened his arms in an inviting way, his long and thin fingers extending towards her hair, stopping just a few inches away.

The inviting darkness of the night was swallowing her, and she was letting it happen. For once, she wanted to live in the illusion the shadows granted her with no need to care about any other. It wouldn't matter if she felt guilty tomorrow, because now she was free of everything.

"Sing! Sing only for me, and I will give you what you want: the Heart of Paris!"

Suddenly her voice stopped, and with it his actions. She turned her head towards him, and Erik couldn't remember the last time his heart skipped a beat. It was clear she couldn't see him, for her gaze wouldn't set on any place.

And yet, with that gaze of defiance in her grey eyes, Erik knew the spell was broken.

"What I want...?" her teeth clenched with rage as her hair covered half of her face, making her gaze look even more dangerous. "What could you possibly know what I want!?"

Lisbeth rose to her feet, and Erik couldn't help but step backward in complete disbelief. She was under his spell! She was his! What could have possibly gone wrong!?

"The opportunities, the audience, the Heart of Paris...I do not need any of it. But my sister does." her words were as hard as her eyes, and the darkness that was previously embracing her seemed to disperse in fear, her light shielding her from him. "Because of it, I will sing and learn. I will listen to your words. But do not dare to pretend to know what I want and desire.

I have my reservations...but I am willing to do this. Only for her. I will sing for no other purpose. Now, come on." a condescending smile appeared on her face. "Let us continue."

The defiance he thought to be amusing before was now filling him with rage, evaporating all other thoughts. How dared she!? How DARED she, a girl barely old to be called an adult, talk to him like that, when he offered her nothing but success and fame! He had covered her in gifts beyond her dreams and she had just rejected them!

And for what, love between sisters? Could someone be that selfless!?

No, he reassured himself. No one could. And that was what he wanted, needed to discover. Why.

He needed to discover why she behaved like that to seize it. And with it, her will to go against him. Erik found out too late that, that night, he stopped caring for only her voice.

Erik wanted her obedience, her submission. To behave just like her sister had. And he was ready to do everything to obtain it.


	3. Recitative

**A/N: This is a loong chapter, but I wanted to write this down so we could pass on to more...interesting things. Also, TW for attempted non-con.**

* * *

Since the day he had introduced himself to Lisbeth, Erik had been watching her.

At first, he told himself it was purely to control her. Every day, he would ascend quietly from his underground lair and through the passage that lead to her room minutes before Lisbeth started her routine, awaiting for her to wake up. He soon found out that the girl had a series of strange behaviors, like covering the mirror every time she went to sleep or placing a bowl of milk on her window shelf every night. She would stand up, drink the liquid from that very bowl , get dressed—the only occasion where he would look away, even though deep down he furiously craved to look—and go to work.

At first, it infuriated him that the owner of such an unique and beautiful voice was bound to do such a commoner job—and by choice, to make things worse! He remembered how he hated every single moment spent with the Romani, and how they forced to do performances that were a waste of his talent and potential, only exposing him for his bizarre and grotesque appearance. Erik also noted that each time there was any kind of class or lesson, she would sneakily listen to it and practice from the shadows—the little vixen! It was clear that she _wanted _the life of an artist, and yet she still refused to chase one, even when she was clearly ahead of any other singer thanks to his guidance!

Then, there was the issue of her temperament.

Erik _loved_ what women represented and ached to feel one in his embrace, as boldly as it may sound. He liked the finesse of their gestures and the amount of time they spent into perfecting their manners, their soft voices and warm gazes, their naïvety and innocence—even though he hadn't experienced any woman behaving like that with him. And yet, it seemed Christine had inherited all those traits and left nothing for her sister, for Lisbeth's personality was the complete opposite! She was bold, foul-mouthed and hot-heated—the way she had talked to Madame Giry showed it and still surprised him in the worst way. At times, when Meg Giry or any other artist on their high horses bullied her, he swore he even heard her grunt and growl and curse lowly like an animal!

It didn't change much when they were together. Even though there were times Lisbeth couldn't help but lost herself in his music—times when he thought she was already under his will—the wretched girl would just snap out of her trance and return to her normal self. Every night, when she told her to go to her room and not wander nor go out with anyone, she would just huff and wave her hand at the darkness without a word, only to just ignore him and do whatever she wanted. None of the things he said and sang mattered, for none were able to warm her heart—not even enough for her to stop looking so distrustful and defiant.

_"She isn't even beautiful! She isn't of my liking!"_ Erik used to desperately say to himself, seeing her overly tangled and dirty blonde hair, her short stature and baggy clothes—that made her seem even smaller—and her freckled face with a pointy nose, small lips and gray eyes—those _cursed_ eyes that stirred and awakened memories inside him he did not want to remember. Christine, though—she was a woman he would have gladly taken under his wing and shower her with all her wishes, for he was sure she would accept them and, in return, adore him like he was a true Angel and fall into the spell of his music. The brunette was also as beautiful and gentle as a flower, with blue eyes that evoked the open sky and skin as flawless and perfect as porcelain.

But sadly, Lisbeth existed—and there was no way he could just ignore such a voice and settle for nothing less than perfection.

Oh, how he hated it! How he hated that Lisbeth didn't seem to feel at all lured or threatened by him! If she only knew what he was capable of...! He hated it so much, there were times he thought of killing_ her _for her stubbornness, killing _her sister_ for not being blessed with Lisbeth's voice—for she would have been far too easier to l_ove and control,_ or just killing _both. _But he couldn't, and that's what he hated the most. He couldn't because he knew he needed her to finish his opera.

But it was also becoming more than the need of a muse, and he knew it. He was starting to get obsessed over the challenge her behavior and choices supposed, and ached to know the reason behind them—for he watched and sometimes talked with Christine only to get information about her sister.

To make things worse, she was as sly as a fox. She had learned to walk among people unnoticed, something that worked far too well when she sneaked into the rehearsals or when she wanted to explore the Opera. Lisbeth would observe every corner of the building and stealthily mark every wall, ladder or corner of the floor she thought to be too odd. Her markings consisted of creating a cross, tiny enough not to be seen at first glance, but deep and rough enough to be sensed by touch. That way, no one noticed her doing. Of course, she failed to detect his clever traps and passages most of the time, but those rare moments she was right—well, the idea of cutting Lisbeth's long and slender fingers was beginning to sound more and more tempting.

The girl was proving to be too cunning for her good. Not smart, nor even intelligent. Just sharp.

Unfortunately for him, Erik knew far too well that kind of people were the most difficult to control. After all, he was one of them.

One night after their lesson, once she had entered her room, he waited for her to go out as she always did. He was trying to not make her become part of his every thought and daily routine, yet he wanted to know what she was doing at all times, even so late at night. Erik hadn't scrapped entirely the possibility of Lisbeth meeting with another man—as incredible as a man wanting to be with such a difficult woman may sound—but thought it to be almost impossible. And yet as she left the room with a big case in one hand and a gas-light lamp on the other he found himself awed at the notion of his heart beating faster and a knot in his stomach appearing as if he actually _cared _if she was meeting with someone else.

He followed her through the dimly illuminated halls, up to levels above ground he wasn't truly thrilled to go to. They arrived at the rooftop shortly after, and after a quick look around, Erik allowed himself to become calm at the absence of anyone else. Hiding behind one of the gargoyles, the man looked at how Lisbeth took from the case a hand-held telescope—of all things, he admitted he did not expect that—and assembled it skillfully. He had heard of those devices before, but never truly saw one nor knew anyone who possessed one—they were incredibly expensive and it was now no wonder why she had kept it a secret. When she finished assembling it, she picked a notebook and, while placing it strangely away from her eyes, she started to write on it while looking through the gadget.

Erik was so immersed in her actions he almost didn't hear the light steps coming from the stairs, giving him just enough time to shift his position in order to be invisible for both Lisbeth and whoever was coming.

"I knew I would find you here." Christine's voice echoed in the large rooftop, and a slight smile appeared on her sister's lips as she turned around. Erik recognized the language they spoke as Swedish, and even though he was no master of it, he was thankful he could comprehend it more or less.

"Christine." the blonde greeted her. "I thought you'd be asleep by now. Is there something you needed?"

"I...It's just..." Lisbeth placed down the notebook at her sister's hesitation and extended a hand towards her, gaining a relieved sigh from her sister.

"You know you can tell me anything." her eyes, which always looked like iron and steel when she was with him, turned to kind silver at the sight of her sister. "Tell me what's wrong."

"This past three months you've been...odd." Lisbeth wanted to answer, but Christine continued "You're always exhausted. I can see it in your tired eyes and pale skin."

"You know cleaning everyone's mess can be a bit overwhelming at times." her voice had a tone of humor as she tried to brush her sister's worries off. A small smile appeared on her lips—that smile her Christine was starting to detest, for she knew it was nothing but a lie.

"It's not only _that_. The only times I'm able to see you are when...when you help me. We used to spend every single second together and now you seem to be avoiding me."

"Aw, so you missed me!" Lisbeth arched a brow and smiled again, not ceasing in her attempts to relax the ambient.

"Lisbeth, I'm serious!" Christine's voice came a little bit harder than she wanted, and she quickly held her sister's hand tighter at her surprised face. "You're quieter than usual, always wandering alone as if looking for something, and yet you won't tell me what it is."

"I guess...I guess your right." she finally admitted, running her fingers through her hair. "Things had happened and I guess I am looking for something. But I don't know what it is. I just know there's something_ there."_

Christine looked at her sympathetically. It was clear she didn't really understand her, but she acknowledged her inner suffering nevertheless. She walked towards the rooftop's railing and signaled her sister to do the same.

"I also wanted to discuss your voice." the brunette said when Lisbeth stood at her side, leaning over the iron bars.

"My voice?"

"It's changing. Don't take me wrong, for it is changing for the better. But it's just...you have improved so much."

"Well, I do go to classes with you, even if I do it from the shadows." she shrugged while looking away. She was keeping her lessons with the Angel a secret, and Erik knew it was the only thing he asked of her that she actually complied—but only because it would keep her sister away from problems, away from _him._

"And yet you're starting to get ahead of everyone, even Carlotta."

"Don't take me wrong, but that isn't _that_ difficult. The woman sings like an aphonic dove."

"Lisbeth!" Christine exclaimed with a surprised voice and a smile on her lips. Both of them giggled together for a while. "You're doing it again, you know?"

"Doing what?"

"Avoiding the question."

"I..." there was no way around it, for her sister knew her far too well, Lisbeth realized. Slowly, she let her body slide until she was sitting on the cold surface, her knees close to her chest. "I only want the best for you, Christine. And I know I can be distant at times, but it doesn't change what I feel. I'm just going through some changes that I cannot really explain to you nor myself."

Seeing Lisbeth's struggle as far more complicated than she expected, she asked no more, trusting on her sister's decision. The brunette sat as best as she could with her enormous dress next to her sister, and together they stayed silent for a while, just enjoying the company of one another.

"You know..."Christine said, gazing at the starry night. "You were born beneath a sky like this. A moonless sky."

"So I've been told." Lisbeth agreed as she frowned, not really understanding why her sister would bring that topic up.

"Papa would tell us that story as a bedtime story, do you remember?"

"I remember it. It came to a point to be awfully boring." she sighed. "But you're going to tell it again anyway, aren't you?"

"Well..." Christine placed her arm around Lisbeth's neck while a bright smile appeared on her face, keeping her close. " Even with Papa's completely different beliefs, he became well-informed in the child-birth rituals of your mother's culture. It was the least he could do, for he would have done everything for her. She even called her this name, like she was a supernatural being. What was it? Ah, yes! _Leannan sìth._ "

Lisbeth became completely still, listening to her sister but not really wanting to look at her in the eye. Christine was used to it though, for every time her mother was named she became as cold as ice.

"So, he prepared everything she might've needed." Christine continued. "Candles, a rosary made of rose seeds, ashes from the chimney, a silver coin...everything that would 'keep the fae away', as she would say, for they were supposed to be dangerous for...well, you. At first, everything was going well, and she was already having contractions as she lied in the bed. But suddenly, she started shouting 'To the forest! I need to go to the forest!'" the brunette mimicked the accent and laughed, earning a huff from her sister. "And then-"

"Our father took the mattress and both ran towards the forest in the middle of the night, with freezing cold weather and no light to guide them because of my mother's stupid whims." Lisbeth interrupted her. "And she gave birth to me under the starry sky, with no protection against any spirit-."

"And because of it, you were connected with them." Christine placed a hand on Lisbeth's cheek, caressing her freckled face with her fingers and making her sister look at her. "And they left the night imprinted in your face, as a way of showing how close you were to them."

" 'For as long as there are stars in the sky, we will never be alone.' What a stupid story." Lisbeth murmured, gazing away.

"Yet, if I remember correctly, you used to love it."

"Yeah, when I thought it _meant_ something." she sighed "Now all that it means is that their stupidity could have very well killed me."

"I used to envy you for having such a story. The only one that I can tell about my birth is...well, that my mother died."

The blonde looked at her with inmense sorrow for having provoked Christine to think about her mother, but she just smirked at her warmly.

"What I'm trying to say, Lisbeth..." the brunette continued."...Is that no matter what, I'll always be there for you, just like Papa was there for your mother. You can tell me anything you want, even if it is related to our Angel. After all, I'm still the oldest."

"Really? I completely forgot." Lisbeth's smile was now wide and bright, and for once, Christine knew she was smiling heartily.

"Are you...feeling a bit better now, sister?" the brunette asked gently, kissing the top of her sister's head.

"I am, in fact." she sighed contently, closing her eyes. "You know I will keep my promise, right?" Lisbeth's voice came out as melancholic, like all her burdens were again over her shoulders. "I will never leave you."

"I know, sister. I love you."

"And I love you."

As both sisters swore their love once more while embracing each other, Erik was on the verge of tears from the cold embrace of the shadows. He wanted to weep not for the beauty of such love, but for the knowledge he could only _dream_ to have, to feel something not even close to what the Daaé felt, with another person. Erik wanted what they had—pure, uncorrupted and beautiful love for each other. But he wanted more than that, too. Witnessing that scene showed him he had far much more cravings than just those of the flesh, cravings he thought long lost.

He wanted the caresses, the kisses, the loving words.

The purity, the trust, the beauty.

The love.

"That reminds me...isn't your birthday coming, Lisbeth? Would you like a book?"

"No books!"

"What? But you love to read!"

"W-Well, there are other things I would prefer."

If he had to pinpoint an exact moment, it would be that night. The exact moment he became obsessed over Lisbeth Daaé as a whole, not as just a voice or a challenge, but as the mystical being she refused to believe she was. He had never envied a woman before—but seeing Christine in her arms, and the way Lisbeth's gray eyes looked at her with infinite adoration, as if she was the most precious and important thing in the world made him feel excruciatingly painful jealousy.

"Lisbeth...would you sing for me?"

"Of course, dear sister. Would you like to go over the latest opera?"

"I was thinking about...one of those lullabies. The ones your mother used to sing to us. You're the only one that know Gaelic."

"Ah, yes...I will gladly sing one for you."

And then, hearing the bewitching and unearthyl sound of her song, he started to cry. For as tears fell down his cadaveric face covered by a ghostly white mask, it was clear now more than ever that he would have to tear apart what he thought to be one of the most beautiful and immaculate things he had ever seen—the Daaé sisters' relationship.

* * *

"Like yellow parchment is his skin." spookily said the chief scene-shifter, surrounded by the youngest members of the ballerina corp, those who still needed to practice more before performing, indicating their young age."The thinnest body you can ever imagine, dress-coat hanging over that skeletal frame. Two black holes as eyes, sunken in a dead man's skull. And his nose—well, there's not much to talk about it, for he has NONE!"

A general scream flooded the room, with all the young girls running towards the furthest corner, away from Joseph Buquet. He started laughing grossly, his fat chin moving rhythmically with it.

"Do you not have better things to do?" a voice in the dark asked, causing another round of screams from the ballerinas and dancers. The fright dissipated quickly though, as the person came to the light and revealed herself to be a girl from the cleaning staff. Joseph Bouquet recognized her instantly as Lisbeth, the girl who always paid him undercover to let her in the backstage at all rehearsals and operas.

"What? Aren't you scared about the Phantom, little girl?" the man inquired with a smile that showed all his rotten teeth. "He'll take you for not being scared of him to show you a lesson!"

"Perhaps it should be you who he takes. After all, you do need a_ lesson_ about how to do your job properly, seeing the state the stage founds itself." Lisbeth calmly said, leaning over the broom she was holding.

The screams shifted to giggles, making Buquet's face go red with anger.

"Funny of you to say that, doing a job even a simpleton could do. Is that it? Are you a simpleton who doesn't know when to shut her mouth?"

There was a change in her eyes, and for a moment the man felt as if a sword went straight through his heart.

"Even a simpleton could see you only tell those stories because you enjoy the company of young girls a little_ too _much."

Now the room was completely silent. The unspoken truth had been said for the first time aloud and practically spat over Buquet's face. His face shifted from red to white and his hands bled due to the strength he was sinking his nails into his hands, holding everything in.

Lisbeth's gaze didn't change, didn't coward. Not even when the man threateningly lifted a hand did she move.

"Lisbeth! Lisbeth!" Christine's shouting froze Joseph in place as the blonde turned around. "Come on, you need to come!"

Before she could ask anything, the brunette took her by the arm and dragged her across the hallway, leaving a furious Buquet behind.

"What is going on!?" Lisbeth managed to ask between ragged breaths.

"One of the decoration panels fell over her when she was introduced to the new owners and-!"

"The Opera has new owners!?"

"Yes! And when she sang to them one of the decoration panels fell over her and-and she left! She won't be singing as Marguerite and they want me to do it!"

"Wait, what!? But we have hardly ever practiced_ Faust_!"

"I know but-!" just a few meters before arriving at the stage Lisbeth stopped running, provoking her sister to do the same and stare at her with urgency in her eyes.

"Christine. We haven't practiced_ Faust_." the girl repeated, leaning her hands on her knees to catch her breath.

"I'll give you the score, don't worry about it."

"The score won't do, sister."

"What? Why not?"

"Because it won't!" she didn't want to shout, but she couldn't avoid it. Pressing her fingers over her temples, she tried to calm herself. "Just sing the part we've rehearsed the most, alright? I'm sure it won't matter to them."

"...Alright." Christine didn't sound very convincing, but she knew she had no other choice but to do as her sister said for she was the one truly singing. Shortly after, the sisters occupied their respective places, in front and behind the curtain that separated both worlds.

From above, Erik watched as the sister stealthily prepared to sing with utter delight. Of course, it has been fairly easy to cut the rope that held up the decoration, even more with the chief of scene-shift gone. For an instant, he studied the two new owners of the opera. It would certainly be a pain to deal with new people who would try to run his Opera, but he would make sure to send them the proper welcoming letters.

He walked along the metallic runway with the elegance of a black cat, watching with his amber eyes how Christine made her way towards the center of the stage and Lisbeth placed a nearby cloak over her head to obscure her face. He had to admit that, as far as lies and tricks went, the Daaé sisters where managing to fool everyone.

It wasn't long before the master of the orchestra started playing, signaling both sisters to play their part.

_Ah! je ris de me voir_

_si belle en ce miroir,_

_Ah! je ris de me voir_

_si belle en ce miroir,_

_Est-ce toi, Marguerite, est-ce toi? _

Ah, how much progress has his little vixen done! She could defy, mistrust and avoid him, but she could never deny the way her voice had completely transformed from a beautiful to a heavenly one, making everyone who heard it become blissfully entranced with it. Moreover, that mystical and wild tint that characterized it was still present, if not more than before, granting it that uniqueness that evoked lush forests, dangerous storms and thrilling hunts.

_Réponds-moi, réponds-moi,_

_Réponds, réponds, réponds vite!_

_Non! Non! ce nest plus toi!_

_Non...non, ce nest plus ton visage; _

Everyone applauded Christine, who bowed with the biggest and brightest of smiles. However, Erik only had eyes for the young Daaé's reaction, who only took off her cloak and turned around to return to her chores quickly, not wanting to stay more than necessary. It was always sad for Erik to watch an artist be unrecognized, even with someone as ill-mannered as Lisbeth.

It was the noise that alerted both of them. The sound of a foot stepping angrily over the parquet, and then, the smell of disgusting sweat.

She couldn't even react as the big hand closed around her freckled neck.

He reacted, though. He knew the look in his eyes far too well. Understanding what was about to happen—for he almost suffered it himself—he made his way down as silent as only an Angel of Death could be.

"So this is what you've been doing here all these times, huh?" The ever-brave eyes of Lisbeth were suddenly clouded by fear as Joseph Buquet's smile grew wider. "All these times you paid me to go away... If I'm honest, and with all those rumors going around about how a simple maiden has a patron, I just thought you were just a slut into really nasty things, like doing it with this patron of yours here, for everyone to see."

Her mouth twitched at his words as she desperately clawed the man's arms, drawing blood. He grunted and tightened his grip around her neck, her body becoming weaker and weaker.

"You go all mighty and prideful when you're only a filthy little liar. I wonder what the new managers would do with two girls who have been lying since the very beginning. I'm sure your career will be completely over, don't you think?"

When the young woman stopped resisting, he knew he just hit the spot. He lessened the strength in his grip but didn't let her go. Instead, he pulled her closer, so close she could feel his awful breath over her skin.

"That's more like it." he laughed silently. "A healthy struggle to whet the appetite is good, but it is even better when you're sensible. You see, you were right. I do enjoy the company of young girls, _younger_ than you. But since now I know your little secret...you have nowhere to run."

Lisbeth's mind worked furiously fast, trying to find something to say, anything, that would make him let her go. Hell, she couldn't even scream for help or everyone would notice them and he would reveal her secret! With agonizing fright, she realized she couldn't go through something like what was about to happen, not after everything she suffered.

"But why stop there?" he disgustingly whispered to her ear, freezing her blood. "When I'm done with you, I'm sure your sister will owe me too."

Everything went blank for Lisbeth, the only thought of Buquet's words making her want to vomit.

His cheek was close to her, close to her mouth.

She couldn't permit it.

"The things I will do to her. I'll make her scream and bleed until she loses her voice...and you can't stop me."

She wouldn't allow it.

But he was almost there, almost there to save his hateful vixen. His beautiful muse.

And yet, he understood upon seeing the Fae's eyes, she didn't need him.

For her eyes reflected the look of a survivor.

First, he saw her teeth, slightly crooked and bared with anger. Then, he saw her hands and nails, digging aggressively into the man's flesh.

And then, as her mouth hovered over his chubby cheek, he saw blood.

"Aagh!" Buquet yelled in pain, pushing the girl away from him. "You BITCH!"

His hand struck her so strongly it sent her directly onto the floor, coughing blood that was a mix between his and hers.

"What's going on back there?" the noise alerted the people on the stage, the sound of steps coming closer alarming Buquet, for he knew far too well it wouldn't matter whatever he said if they saw what he did to the maiden.

He looked down at Lisbeth, who was trying to get up the floor in a pitiful manner, looking at him with a strength she no longer had. He raised his hand again, for he was too lost in his anger to realize it would cost him his job and would do better to just run away.

His hand never reached her, though, stopping inches away from her.

Or, rather, stopped—for both Lisbeth and Joseph watched with horror how a skeletal arm dressed in a black dress-coat with a spidery hand grabbed him, the longest and thinnest fingers she had ever seen closing around his wrist.

With a final move, he kicked Lisbeth's chest before being dragged towards the shadows without even a sound.

With her head spinning, Lisbeth only caught glimpses of what was happening around her—brunette hair falling over her, scream and shouts, the shadows of a crowd surrounding her.

"Buquet. No hospitals." left her mouth, or at least she hoped so. "I saw...I saw..."

"What?" Christine's voice reached her mind. "What did you see, sister?"

"...An Angel."

Not soon after, she surrendered herself to a darkness filled with pain.

* * *

"Please, my Angel. Please." prayed Christine, kneeling in front of Lisbeth's bed. "Please watch over her.

Tears stained the sheets as the brunette continued with her retaliation of prayers. As per the blonde's request, Christine had made sure only a doctor could see her. She tried to keep her cool while he examined her, but as soon as he gave her the instructions necessary to successfully carry out a healing treatment, Christine had rushed to her sister's bed, crying and wondering what on earth could have happened.

"Please...say something. Anything" she kept on saying, brushing her sister's hair caringly with her fingers. Lisbeth's right half of her face was left completely bruised, black and purple painfully tainting her swollen skin. Before passing out, the brunette noticed her eyes were reddened, but not in the same way as her mouth, which was so bloodied that for a moment Christine thought she had vomited blood.

"I am here, child." the voice she so very much adored and worshipped came finally to her, and she sighed in relief. "What is the state of your sister?"

Christine couldn't say it for sure, but it seemed to be a hint of worry in the Angel's voice.

"She should regain consciousness soon. The hit was painful, but not severe. The doctor told me she should be mostly healed in a couple of weeks."

"That is good to hear." he stopped for a moment. "You must be very relieved."

"I am, Angel." she agreed, placing her hand over her heart. "I do not know what I would do without her."

"And yet...you must start doing it."

"What?" she asked in complete shock. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know why this happened to her?" when Christine shocked her head, the Angel continued. "Joseph Buquet discovered your secret and tried to..take advantage of your sister. To protect you and herself, she fought him."

"Oh my god..." she breathed out, putting both hands over her mouth in horror. "This...this was my fault."

"You can still protect her. Protect her as much as she protects you." said the Angel, his voice sounding like a forbidden promise.

"How? Oh please, my Angel, tell me how."

"Distance yourself from her." his words made her opened her eyes wide open, the still blue of her irises becoming stormy. "Make her feel less attached to you. That is the only way you can protect her—by making her not wanting to protect you.

"But...but..."

"It is the only way, my child." the Angel sentenced, making Christine cry helplessly. "It does not need to be in an aggressive way. Stop looking for her company, for her words. Only search for your sister when you need her to sing for you, for all that she wants is your happiness and success and nothing will stop her from helping you achieve it."

_"For the moment."_ Erik thought, standing at the other side of the great mirror, smiling wickedly with his ruined lips.

"...If you believe it is the only way to keep her safe...I shall do it."

"Do not fright, child, for I shall always look out for her. You do not need to protect her anymore. I will."

Lisbeth mumbled lightly in her sleep, meaning that she would awaken soon.

"Now leave, child. Let her in my care."

Still crying, she hurriedly stood up and turned around to leave the room. However, a hand stopped as it grabbed her wrist.

"C-Christine? What ha...where are you going?"

"I need to leave, sister." she said without looking at her. "You need to rest and...and I cannot stay out of my room at this hour."

"But I...I need to tell you..."

"Sleep well, Lisbeth."

With those last words, Christine left, leaving her sister with an extended arm towards her, trying desperately reaching her. As the door shut behind her, Lisbeth's arm slowly returned to the bed. With a hand placed in the stinging wound, the blonde started sobbing quietly due to the pain and the loneliness.

She was starting to doze off into when she felt a deadly coldness on her swollen flesh.

Erik grew bold, and he cursed himself for it. Seeing the pitiful state the girl was in, he couldn't help his whim and walked through the mirror, silently approaching Lisbeth. He desperately wanted to touch her, to lessen a pain that he had increased, but he knew it was a bad, bad idea.

And yet he couldn't stop his fingers from touching her—for even though he despised physical contact with any other human being, Erik thought his body would cease to function if he didn't gave it the so much needed contact it lusted for.

He felt how her body stiffened, completely aware of his presence. However, Erik knew fairly well her eyes were so damaged she wouldn't be able to even see him. So he allowed himself to be capricious for that night, that moment.

Erik's idea was to touche her for an instant and to quietly retreat from where he came. However, as soon as he started retiring his hand, Lisbeth's head followed it like she was an obedient pet, grazing his fingers on purpose.

"So cold..." he heard her say while being in a state of complete awe. "So soothing..."

Right there, standing next to Lisbeth, Erik wanted to cry. He knew the only reason she longed for his coldness was due to her stinging flesh, and yet something inside him melted, the many layers of stone that protected his heart slowly falling apart. Has ever a woman not only touched him, but sought his touch because she _wanted _to? Not since his childhood, at least.

"Stay?" A single word, a single plea from her mouth, and he came undone. He occupied Christine's place in front of the bed—a place it rightfully belonged to him now—and lightly placed his palm over her face, causing her to breathe in comfort.

He wanted to cry, to laugh, to dance, to sing.

For he had touched her...he had fully touched her...

_...and she didn't recoil from his touch!_

But not only that, for his cold contact had also _pleased_ her!

He wanted to kiss her, to embrace her, to lay in the bed beside her.

But, for now, he would just stay.

"I will be here." he whispered to her, and only to her. "Now, and forever."


	4. Chorus

**I wanted to thank everyone who (specially) commented, left favs, follows or kudos. They're the reason why I continued to write the story and why I will keep on writing it. Thank you so much 3**

* * *

Christine held her arms high, crying as the entire audience stood up and applauded her flawless performance.

While the light from the spotlights illuminated her—and only her—in the center of the stage, Christine finally felt that her life was beginning to be as bright and blissful as it used to be. Among the light, she felt her father smiling down upon her, watching from Heaven pridefully at her daughter's first triumph.

With a smile that showed her pearly teeth, she wondered if the Angel of Music would be as pleased as her with the performance.

The Angel had been talking, encouraging and advising her for four months now—enough time for Christine to understand that, as long as she had him by her side, she would forever thrive. From night to night she would hear his voice inside her head, whispering words that made her dream of a future bigger than she ever dared to think. Even in those times where she felt wrong and disgusted with all the lies and deceptions, he would soothe her with the sweetest voice.

"It is you who they want to see. Your acting. Your beauty." the Angel would say "Nothing else matters."

_"Nothing else matters."_

But...was that true?

After all the things and sacrifices her sister made for her?

It was the faintest noise that caught her attention and made Christine move her head just enough to see what was happening behind her. Her blue eyes scrutinized the black curtain that divided the stage from the light of greatness and the shadows of the unknown. When she saw a small opening between the fabrics, her entire self froze.

Christine saw her sister. Deep down, the brunette knew that no matter how hard she tried to fool herself, no matter how much she trusted her beloved Angel, she couldn't escape from the truth.

For Lisbeth held her arms high, crying as the entire audience stood up and applauded her flawless performance.

And Christine knew those tears were the exact opposite as hers.

_"I'll keep my promise, sister. I'll make sure you achieve your dream."_

Lisbeth's words still lingered in her mind, the way she held her close to her body as if she was the most important thing in the whole world as their house burned down. It could be so easy to just take her arm and make everyone see her. So easy to just give her the recognition the brunette knew her sister deserved even if she didn't wish for it. But could she just ignore the cheers and whistles from the public? Jeopardize her position as a new a _prima donna _uncovering all the illusions and falsehoods?

Was she able to make peace with the fact that she wasn't good enough to be where she was?

With a pain that seemed to weight in her soul, she decided, as her tears grew cold, that she couldn't do it. Not for the moment. Not until she reached her sister's level. Then, she would set her free from her promise—she was certain of it and determined to do it no matter what, as she had tried to do it numerous times but ultimately failed at her sister's insistence.

Christine would reach Lisbeth's skill. She didn't know exactly how, as her sister improved at an awesome speed—but she had to do it whatever the cost, even if that meant to follow her Angel's every command and order. Even if it meant to grow apart from her sister.

For even though she wasn't capable to leave the spotlight, she wanted her sister to be in it too.

But right now, Christine Daaé was the woman of the moment, the new discovery, the star of the Opera. And even though she knew her sister was a star of her own, the books and papers would only know her name.

"My dear sister, you were spectacular tonight." the brunette said while crossing the curtains, hugging her sister with all her shaking strength.

"It's you who they acclaim, don't forget that." she responded, returning the embrace and taking her hand. "Let's go to my room before leaving. You must be tired."

"Exhausted is the word I'd go for. My body won't stop trembling" Christine agreed, making a small smile appear on Lisbeth's face. "And yet, I can't bear to think about what awaits us."

"Two and a half weeks of rest are not the end of the world, silly." her laughter warmed the brunette's heart. "It'll be good for us—to go with Ms. Valerius and clear our heads. God knows she needs the company."

"Yes, the woman has done a lot for us. It's the least she deserves." Christine said while remembering how she welcomed them into her house when they were only fifteen years old after their father died. They gave her a lot of troubles, and yet she had always been nothing but caring and gentle towards them. "Also, since you're ahead of everyone now, I hoped you'd be kind enough to give me some private lessons."

The words were meant to be gentle, funny even. And yet, Christine couldn't help but have a cold and distant tone that didn't go unnoticed by her sister.

"If that is what you want." Lisbeth let go of her sister's hand immediately, and the brunette scolded herself for her selfish attitude. She was about to apologize to her when the familiar sound of a staff hitting solemnly the ground stopped them instantly.

"Mademoiselle Daaé." as both girls turned their heads, Giry sighed and cleared her throat. "Christine."

"What is it, Madame?" she responded bowing slightly her head while the lady approached them.

"I was asked to give you this, my dear." the woman handed her a letter, which Christine took with a shy smile.

Madame Giry and Lisbeth stared at each other for a moment without saying nothing until Christine returned to her sister's side, carrying her by the arm and forcing her to stop gazing.

When they finally arrived at Lisbeth's room, Christine sat down on the desk, Lisbeth laid on the bed and Erik, quiet as ever, listened and stared at them from the other side of the mirror.

"So, what does it says?" the blonde asked as she yawned out loud, not even caring about putting a hand over her mouth. She undid her usual updo and her hair snaked down the sheets as if champagne was poured all over them.

"A red scarf. The attic. Little Lotte." Christine read out loud in French while crossing her legs.

"Little Lotte? I think I've heard that before." Lisbeth said while getting out of bed in a jump. She hugged her sister from behind, clearly forgetting what happened before. "It seems my beautiful sister already has an admirer~."

"Don't say that!" the girl's face blushed completely in a matter of seconds, provoking her sister to laugh soundly. From the other side of the mirror, Erik was torn between putting his hands over his ears or enjoy the warming sound of her laughter, as it was strangely unfiltered and ultimately sincere.

Lisbeth's laugh was rough, loud and somewhat wild—just like her.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden noise that came from outside the room, who laughed and talked lively. Lisbeth recognized two of the voices, which belonged to Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin, the new owners of the Opera. The other one, youthful and full of joy, was unknown to her.

"Gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind, this is one visit I should prefer to make unaccompanied." the strange voice said and, only a few seconds after, a knock on the door was heard. None of the sisters was given the chance to open it, for the stranger took the liberty to do it on his own.

A man in his early twenties entered the room holding a red rose in his hand, earning a surprised gasp from Christine and a low grunt from Lisbeth. Erik clicked his tongue, clearly disliking his presence—he was old enough to recognize one of his kind at first glance: noblemen who thought their looks would take them everywhere they wanted. He would never admit it, but he found it rather peaceful to just watch the two sisters talk to each other—it gave him a piece of that daily routine he desired to have with someone. To have it so unexpectedly stopped annoyed him, to put it mildly.

On the other hand, he also secretly waited for the results of his conversations with Christine, which were already showing as the banter between the sisters grew distant.

"Christine Daaé." the man said loudly, his curly, blonde hair framing a beautiful face as his broad shoulders stood perfectly straight. "Where is your red scarf?"

"Monsieur?" the brunette responded shyly, turning her head slowly as she arched a brow. Lisbeth's embrace tightened around her.

"Well, you can't have lost it." he continued. "After all the trouble I took, isn't that right? I was just fourteen and soaked to the skin-"

"Because you had run into the sea to fetch my scarf!" Christine stood up suddenly, unintentionally pushing her sister, who trailed a few steps back. "Oh Raoul, it is you!"

The brunette rushed to meet Raoul, who eagerly took her hand and handed her the rose. The look of pure bliss in their faces stang Lisbeth's heart with a feeling she didn't waste a second to brush away. She must've done some kind of sound without realizing it, because the man turned her gaze to her as if he just noted she was in the room.

"I cannot believe you're here too...!" he meant to keep talking, but the girl noticed how his eyes drifted to the right as if trying to rashly think about something. "...Beautiful Beth!"

"Beautiful Beth?" the blonde snickered, leaning onto the wall as she crossed her arms."Come on, Raoul. We both know the name was Beastly Beth. Or have you forgotten who_ actually _pulled you out from the sea?"

"How could I? The shame stills haunts me to this day." he replied with an easy-going smile. The amusing look in her eyes managed to ease his nerves, as he was clearly unsure whether the old nickname would bother her. "Besides, Beautiful Beth suits you better now. It is appreciable that a beauty has emerged from the ashes of the little beast you used to be."

For an unknown reason to Erik, the comment really irritated him. How dared they treat each other with such familiarity when he, after four months, wasn't even gifted with a damn thank you!? He wasn't sure if he could keep listening to the conversation without losing his composure for much longer.

"If you really knew her, you wouldn't say that." Christine giggled. "I'm afraid my dear sister is very much still the same."

"She said it." Lisbeth agreed with another laugh. "I'm afraid that your title will serve you of nothing with me, Vitcomde Raoul De Changy."

Poor Raoul arched an eyebrow and shot doubtful looks at them, sighing after a while.

"It's good to see your relationship is as good as ever." he said while scratching the back of his neck. "I still think of our time together as one of my fondest memories. The picnics at the attic, the stories of goblins and sìth..."

"...Father playing the violin..." Christine interrupted, carried away by the memories.

"...As we read to each other dark stories of the north and mystical tales of the west. Oh, I have so very much missed you both." He took in his hands one of Lisbeth and Christine's, pulling them closer to him. The man behind the mirror wondered for a moment if the clenching of his teeth could be heard from the other side.

"The feeling's mutual, my friend." the brunette was quick to reply, and as they lost themselves into each other's eyes, Lisbeth let go of his hand. Released from her hold, the man's hand roamed now around Christine's perfectly round curls. " Oh Raoul, I have wonderful news! Do you remember what my father used to say? That when he finally went to Heaven, he would send an Angel of Music to guide us?"

"Christine!" Lisbeth tried to shush her, but her excitement prevented her from listening.

"Well, he is in Heaven know, and he has sent us an Angel of Music!"

"I have no doubt of that, my dear. After hearing such a voice, I knew it could be no one but my dearest Christine the one who possessed it. And now, we go to supper." he stated after kissing Christine's delicate hand, who couldn't help but frown at his words.

"But Raoul, it is late and we must pack our things for-"

"I'll have none of that, Little Lotte. You must change while I go and fetch my hate" he insisted, heading towards the door. "Oh, and you should come too, Lisbeth, as I will also invite my brother. You remember him, right? I'm sure he will greatly enjoy your company."

_"If she dares..." _Erik began to whisper like a prayer. _"If she dares, I'll..."_

"Well, that's not what I heard." Lisbeth snorted.

"What do you mean?"

"W-We will be delighted to have dinner with you!" intervened the brunette. "Please, give us a few minutes to get properly dressed."

With a final bow, Raoul De Changy left the room and closed the room behind them.

"Let's go to your room now. I assume you'll want to wear the most gorgeous dress in your wardrobe?" the blonde sighed, massaging her left temple. Even though her wound was almost entirely healed, at times it still hurt.

"Shouldn't you change first, now that we're here?"

"I'm not going, Christine."

"What? Why?" the brunette questioned, not liking her decision.

"I..." Erik stopped his retaliation and looked at her wide-eyed. Was she, for once, being obedient? He couldn't believe. "I can't go."

"Surely there must be a reason." Christine continued to ask, not giving up.

"There is. And it is that I have no interest in attending a dinner where I'll be surely bored."

"How can you say that? Surely Philippe will-!"

"Raoul's brother is not of my taste." Lisbeth simply replied, making her sister frown.

"Why? I thought you liked older men." Christine pointed out with a mischievous smile.

"I might like my men older, dear sister, but that doesn't mean I like them _taken. _Everyone knows he has an affair with La Sorelli."

"What!? I wasn't aware of that!"

"And neither was Raoul, it seems. You'de be surprised with all the juicy gossip that is shared among the cleaning staff." she grinned after seeing her sister's surprised grimace. "That's why I'd really rather stay and pack my things. I'm not the kind of woman who is ready to share. Besides, he's blond. And French. Ugh."

Lisbeth opened her mouth wide and placed a finger inside while making a disgusted sound, making her sister giggle.

"You realize you're a blonde yourself, don't you?"

"Yeah, and that's exactly the reason why I can't stand them. I don't want to be with someone who looks like me!"

"And what about the French part? I find their manners and behavior rather charming." she said as her face started to turn red.

"I've_ noticed. _I think it's the language that really throws me off—all those sounds meant to be done with the throat are tiring."

"But, on the other side, they're great for practicing, wouldn't you agree? Besides, isn't Gaelic also kind on using those kinds of sounds?"

"That is the reason why, my dear sister, my throat doesn't need any training. I assure you—it does better wonders than any French woman's throat." she concluded with a sly smile that finished to warm up Christine's face. It had also an effect on Erik, who had calmed down after hearing Lisbeth's choice and was now thinking, while his mouth hung open with dumbfoundedness, if she really meant what he thought he meant.

"LISBETH!" a cushion flew straight to the blonde's face, whose uncontrollable laughter was soon joined by her sister's. After a short while of idle chat, they both exited the room, leaving Erik in the shadows behind. The realization that Lisbeth was able to have suitors struck him hard, as he thought no man would want to be with her.

However, he had to admit that, over the course of those months together, he found his liking over her only growing stronger—the fact that he hadn't been able to have her heart yet, even when he used all the power and illusions he knew would make any other fall to his feet...it was making his loose his mind.

Some people bend easily. Others were hard to bend. And then, there was Lisbeth, who didn't seem to be affected by his charms at all. With a sad smile, he remembered it was not as rare as he wanted to make it sound, for his only friend was exactly like her.

And if his alluring voice and illusions wouldn't grant him what he wanted, then what could do it?

The way he saw it, he had two options.

He could just act as if what happened meant nothing. Everything was developing as it should be—rushing things now would probably scare her, or even worse—since she had not one iota of faith that he was the Angel of Music, she could just warn everyone about him, which would lead to infinite troubles. He considered himself to be intelligent, patient and a man of logic, and in most cases, he would have opted for that choice.

However, he now understood he could approach things differently, for he couldn't just let a man take what had cost him his time, effort and, ultimately, love towards her voice.

Erik knew the words he had to say and the way he needed to say them. He just needed for Lisbeth to return. And so he decided.

If she didn't come back to her room in an hour, he would let her be for the moment.

But if she did come back...

He would have to take her away. After all, what are two weeks with him compared to a lifetime tied to some stupid nobleman who wouldn't appreciate her art to the fullest?

That's what he told himself over and over again, for he knew what he was about to do was all kinds of wrong. And yet, he felt as if he would truly die if he didn't have this chance.

* * *

Lisbeth sighed as she entered into her room, seeking her bed desperately. Helping her sister to get dress up was always tiresome, but she had to admit those wretched corsets where almost impossible to be tied on their own. She was almost thankful she couldn't use tight-fitted clothes anymore.

However, before she could even sit on her couch, a familiar voice talked to her.

"Lisbeth...my poor Lisbeth..." as always, the Angel made the girl tremble with his enchanting sound.

"I'm tired." she rudely responded. "And I need to-"

"Does your heart ache, knowing that you are to be forgotten ?"

"What!?" her tiredness evaporated in a moment as the girl clenched her fist with anger. "What do you mean!?"

"I know about the Vicomte. I have seen how your sister looks at him...and I know they are bound to love each other, for he has listened to you sing and thought it was your sister."

"...That is good!" she yelled, her hair hiding her grimace. "She deserves the love!"

"And yet...what would that mean for you? You will be left behind. The boy will receive all her love now, and you...

...You will be alone."

_Just as much as I am._

"You do not know that. You don't know her!"

"I have talked to her every night, my dear. I know what lies in her heart. I know what she will do to you once she finds she is not completely alone without you."

"...You don't know that." she repeated, though her words came weaker this time.

With Lisbeth, everything was a tug of war game. And Erik seemed to be winning.

"The time has come. The time to stop all illusions and deceptions, my dear Lisbeth. Come with me tonight, and I will fill your life with the music you deserve."

"I won't leave my sister. You, on the other side, seem to be too eager for me to leave her." her grey eyes became steel, and he knew he had to do something or the girl would just leave without another word.

"What I want is for you to know your true value. You live in Christine's shadow, but you desperately want to search for your own light. I have seen it, in every class and every song.

"A promise is far more important than what I desire." she said, biting her lips and looking down.

"Then you must come with me regardless." the voice repeated. "Two weeks away from that promise that drowns you, that keeps you from thriving. Two weeks is also the time I need to finish perfecting your voice—which would also be good for your sister, should you wish to keep your word."

"You cannot honestly think that I'll just leave with someone I do not know, right?"

"But you do know me. I have been your Angel, your tutor, for the past four months. Have I ever let you down? Given you nothing but the finest skill? I have come to know you, Lisbeth, and it is what you do not know about me what will make you come with me—for I am offering you the opportunity to _truly_ meet me. Can you really let the opportunity go?"

Lisbeth stood silent for far more time than Erik could wait for. It was the first time he saw the hot-headed girl think about a decision, and it had to be now when the finishing of his opera was at stake.

"Fine." her voice descended upon him like a blessing. Erik couldn't believe it, how he had actually managed to convince her to go with him. Blessed be her wretched curiosity, for the great weight in his heart that was to be her stealing was now lifted!

"But I have one condition."

"I am offering you greatness beyond imagination...and you dare to ask for conditions?"

"I want you to let my sister know I'm fine. That I still care about her even if I'm gone. That I will return from whatever place you'll take me."

Erik watched as the blond hugged herself, gripping her arms tightly as she felt sick at the thought of leaving her sister alone. Seeing her in such a state was his undoing, for as he checked out a month before, he couldn't stand watching her suffering.

"I will grant you your wish, my dear. Now, stand in front of the mirror...and come to me"

Frowning, the girl did as he commanded. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched the gigantic object moved on its own as she walked right across the path is revealed, completely astonished by the magic she had just witnessed.

And as she left the light of her bedroom behind, darkness swallowed her whole.

She knew she was not alone, for the voice started to sing to her. Lisbeth found out that there, in the shadows, it was even harder to resist his charms. When the girl tried to take a few more steps which would luckily lead her away from his voice, Lisbeth fell flat on the floor when she tripped over something, forcing her to sit on her knees for a moment.

Unfortunately, it was the very moment he chose to reveal himself.

A gas-light lamp illuminated a single spot among the obscure surroundings, way above her. As her silvery eyes looked above, her mouth went dry and, for a moment, the blonde forgot how to breathe.

Elegantly standing above her, like a cat ready to hunt a mouse, a man with a white mask— which covered his whole face except for his lips— looked down upon her. She couldn't help but travel through his body with her eyes, looking with wide eyes at his tall and skeletal figure, with a cloak that hovered over it like black wings. When his yellow eyes finally met her grey ones in the light surrounded by darkness, neither of them found words to express what they felt. No more illusions, nor lies. Just darkness against light.

Gold against silver.

Steel against amber.

A woman who knew she had in front of her the man that saved her.

A man who knew he had in front of her the woman who would save him.

And before she could truly understand where he was going to take her, his music became too much. Her feelings became too much.

And for the first time, she gave in to the Music of the Night.


End file.
